


Soup

by Ayearandaday



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And stubborn, Bit of Fluff, Boss/Employee Relationship, But not as stubborn as Rey, F/M, Flu medicine side effects, Hopeful Ending, Kylo Ren Has Mommy Issues, Leia wasn't the mother of the year, Pre-Relationship, Rey is too kind for her own good, bit of angst, kylo is sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 23:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20299468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayearandaday/pseuds/Ayearandaday
Summary: Rey is asked to drop papers at her sick boss' appartment. But she can't just leave him like that, can she?





	Soup

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure how this happened but it did. Please, enjoy Rey dealing with Kylo-the-sick-five-year-old.

Her work phone was ringing obnoxiously. Rey quickly glanced at the clock. Not even nine. So today was one of _those_ days. She sighed internally before picking it.

“Good morning, are you free?” greeted her Gwen’s polite voice. The HR Head couldn’t stand wasting her time on social pleasantries. Rey mentally calculated the odds.

“Relatively.” First Order employees didn’t get to lounge on their workplaces, much less a CEO’s secretary. There were no _free_ days per se, but occasionally there were I-don’t-need-to-be-at-three-places-at-the-same-time days. Phasma hummed pensively.

“Think you can take a break for a couple of hours?” Rey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ren is sick and wants someone to drop him his documents and I _really_ don’t want to ask Mitaka.” Gwen’s reluctance was palpable. While Dopheld Mitaka was an incredibly proficient worker with a truly astonishing Power Point skills, he also had a very fragile nervous constitution and a misfortune to work for Kylo Ren, a local equivalent of a bogyman. Rey heard legends about temper tantrums their boss used to throw, but in her experience he was simply an introversive taciturn demanding workaholic. Hardly a match to Plutt, her foster father, after him anyone was child’s play. Dopheld, though, was a sweet guy who covered her ass when she had a doctor appointment or took a few days to attend her friends’ wedding. Dropping a bunch of documents at her boss’ didn’t seem such a big deal.

“Is it serious?” Rey asked instead.

“Probably? I don’t know but I have never seen him take a sick leave before and I highly doubt he plays hooker.” Phasma was blunt to the fault as always.

“He still requested his workload,” she pointed out. Gwen sighed.

“Well, you know Ren, he is married to his work. We’ll probably bury him with his phone and laptop.” Her tone indicated that she disapproved. “So will you be a doll and save poor Dopheld from the encounter with the man-devil himself? You’ll get a double rate.” Rey immediately perked.

“For the whole Friday?”

“Sure,” Phasma agreed easily. _Oh, that was too good to pass it_.

“Yes, why not?”

“I knew you are my favorite for a reason,” the other woman grinned.

“And here I thought it’s for my devastating looks,” Rey sighed in mock-offence.

“Whatever you say, Sunshine. You’ll want a black folder on his table.”

“They are _all_ black,” she pointed out reasonably. Ren wasn’t exactly aware of color-coding.

“But not all of them are labeled Crait Investments,” chuckled Gwen. “I’ll even call you Uber. Good luck.”

Phasma’s words left Rey uneasy. A simple errand like that shouldn’t require _luck_. To distract herself she started to think about Ren’s condition. Was it a sore throat? A food poisoning? Or, God forbid, a _hangover_? He didn’t seem to have any kind of social life at all. Rey had been working for him for almost two years and had never heard about his friends or significant others or anyone. Ren’s mother, a lovely-sounding woman named Leia, occasionally phoned his office but he always was too busy to answer. He was a classical definition of workaholic for all intents and purposes. She wondered whether at home he was different than at work.

Her boss lived in an ultra-modern chrome-and-glass apartment complex. No, scratch that, he lived in a penthouse. In Rey’s opinion for someone who drowned in luxury he smiled way too little. She was admitted in by security (who glared at her as if she was a rat and not an appropriately dressed professional) and was pointed out a private elevator, because of course. Why wouldn’t her introverted misanthropic boss not have a private elevator?

She stood in front of a massive door (black) gingerly pressing a doorbell button (also black). Silence. Rey pressed the button again. Nothing. She considered calling Phasma but what exactly was she going to say? Then again, Ren was sick, he might be sleeping. As her last resort the woman pushed the doorknob. To her surprise it yielded. She let herself in a long hallway with grey walls and black flooring (how unexpected). Still nothing.

“Mr. Ren?” she called. “It’s Rey Johns, I brought you your papers.” Silence. “Mr. Ren?” Suddenly a side door opened revealing her surprisingly disheveled boss. She jumped. “Oh, you scared me.”

“Rey,” he stated blankly as if not realizing that she was there. He looked every inch a person on a sick leave – in black sweatpants and T-shirt instead of his customary suits, glasses askew, hair ruffled, skin pale and clammy. His eyes were unnaturally bright probably indicating fever. Rey barely caught herself from checking his forehead.

“Are you OK?” she asked instead.

“Fine,” he replied curtly.

“You look sick.” The man huffed.

“I don’t do sick.” With that he turned and walked back into the room. Rey stood frozen in place unsure of what to do. Ren turned back impatiently. “What are you waiting for?” She frowned.

“I’m sorry?”

“Come on.” He motioned her to follow him.

“Mr. Ren, I came only to drop your papers,” she protested. He rolled his eyes.

“You are here anyway, make yourself useful.” Rey sighed. It was indeed one of _those_ days.

It was bad. Very bad. It was like watching five-year old dealing with cold on their own. Because apparently that was what Ren was – a child in man’s suit. He kept sniffling and pouting, he was throwing used tissues all over the place, he wasn’t drinking water or taking any medicine. And worse of all, he kept pretending he was OK. Which was rich considering he had stared at the folder for fifteen minutes, no less, before he remembered he needed to open it. After thirty more minutes of this nonsense Rey lost her patience.

“Mr. Ren, I think you have a temperature,” she ventured.

“Like any other alive human being,” the man responded flatly before wiping his nose.

“No, I mean hot.” That made him pause.

“Um, thanks for noticing, I guess.” Rey gritted her teeth.

"Mr. Ren.”

“Kylo. My name is Kylo.” She took a deep calming breath.

“You are burning. Feverish even. Do you have Nyquil or something?” He waved her off.

“I don’t have anything, I told you, I don’t do sick.” His bold statement was followed by a series of sneezes and sniffles. At that moment Rey was pretty sure she was going to smack him upside his silly head.

“Mr… Kylo, you have a fever, you must at least lie down.” The man stared at her blankly.

“Nonsense, I’ve got work to do. Where is my laptop?”

“Right in front of you,” answered Rey through clenched teeth. Kylo blinked.

“Oh, indeed. It requires password.” He stared at her expectantly.

“Yes?” She wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted. “It’s a company policy.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” Rey asked with annoyance. “Mr… Kylo, I’m not supposed to know your password.” He kept staring. “But if you insist it’s your birthday backwards.” Still staring. “Oh, for God’s sake!” she exclaimed before jabbing the password with more force than necessary. He nodded, clearly contented.

“Right, just checking.”

“Of course. Excuse me for a minute,” she gritted. Kylo probably didn’t notice.

The first thing Rey did was to go rummaging around her boss’ kitchen. It was done in shades of gray, hi-tech, clean, neat and basically empty. A quick glimpse into the fridge revealed rows of neatly labeled boxes: Friday dinner, Saturday breakfast, Saturday lunch… No soup. No raw ingredients whatsoever. A look through bathroom allowed her an insight into Kylo’s twelve-step hair care routine, but no medicine was found. Rey huffed. What exactly this man did with his time? Worked, worked out (no way his T-shirt stretched this way over nothing), pampered his (admittedly gorgeous) hair and slept? He had no photos, no visible indications of hobbies, no traces of women (or other men) in his apartment. Nada. How lonely he must feel? Unfortunately for her she could relate. Rey deeply sighed remembering about roads paved with good intentions and fished out her phone.

“Gwen?”

“Hi, Sunshine,” chirped the blonde. “Want me to rescue you from the beast?”

“Um, no. I think I’ll stay for the day.” There was a prolonged pause.

“Seriously? That bad?” Rey sighed, resigned.

“He forgot his own password.” Phasma cursed under her breath. “I really should make a trip to a pharmacy or something.”

“Save the check, I’ll put it on company’s expenses. And you’ll get a triple rate,” she added in afterthought.

“Really?” The other woman chuckled.

“Rey, honey, you are willing to play doctor with the great and terrible himself, that deserves a reward.”

“Can I have an extra day off as well?” she asked tentatively.

“Now you are pushing,” Gwen informed matter-of-factly.

“OK, thanks anyway.”

“Anytime, doll. Call me if he violates too many HR guidelines.” Rey smiled.

“Sure. Have a nice day.” With a renewed sense of purpose she filled a glass with water and returned to her stubborn boss.

“Drink.” Kylo stared at her. She raised her eyebrow. With an indignant huff the man finally complied. “I’m going shopping, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replied vainly looking for a clean tissue.

“If you say so,” muttered Rey dubiously.

Channeling her inner hobbit Rey made a quick trip to the pharmacy and back again. She even managed to grab soup in the nearby supermarket. Surely, even her boss could appreciate the gesture.

“Kylo, I’m back,” she called closing the door.

“Why?” _Or not._

“To bring you your medicine, obviously.”

“That doesn’t look like one,” he protested pointing the container. His mannerism made him look like a child all over again. Rey rolled her eyes, annoyed to be the only responsible adult in the room.

“Yes, because it’s a chicken noodles soup. You are supposed to eat soup when you are sick.”

“I don’t do sick,” Kylo mumbled petulantly. His flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead screamed otherwise.

“So I’ve heard,” she huffed. “I’m going to reheat it for you, OK?”

“I don’t eat soup.” Rey took a deep breath trying her hardest to emulate her school teacher Mr. Kenobi.

“Yes, you do,” she informed him sternly. “Or I’ll feed you myself.” He pursed his lips.

“Stop treating me like a child.”

“Stop behaving like one,” she snapped. Kylo glared at her. Rey glared back. _And that’s probably how I lose my job_, she thought off-handedly. Finally her boss sighed.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” she repeated and then proceeded to heat the soup and made sure Kylo ate every single drop like a good boy he was _not_.

It took some persuasion to make him take his medicine. It took some nerve to refuse as stubbornly as Kylo did. But after he finally did it the sickness took toll on him and he was out in no time leaving Rey to clean the apartment and neaten the mess of papers he made. In his sleep Kylo’s face relaxed making him look much younger, less stern and standoffish. He whimpered and she gently cleared his hair away from his face before she had time to stop herself. Was that inappropriate? Definitely. But who was there to tell?

Maybe she should have gone home. Maybe she should have returned back to work. But for some reason Rey stayed keeping an eye on him and doing her paperwork. An hour later Kylo started to stir. She leaned over to check on him when he blinked sleepily.

“Mom?” She flushed.

“Mr. Ren, it’s me, Rey.”

“Mom, you are here!” His voice was full of childish awe, as if Christmas came early. She froze on spot frantically remembering side effects of Nyquil. Could his fever make him think he’s five? Should she call a doctor?

“Mr… Kylo, it’s Rey Johns, your secretary.” He looked at her sleepily.

“Mom, who’s Kylo?” Her heart dropped. “I’m Ben.” _Oh? Oh._ This had to be his real name. Who on earth would call a child Kylo? “Why is your hair down?” he asked reaching for her tousled locks.

“Um, because?” Rey wasn’t going to explain it was either catching her buss or making her three buns that morning.

“It’s always braided,” mused Kylo. Ben. Whatever. “Are you going out?” Rey chuckled weakly at the absurdity of the dialogue.

“No, of course not.”

“You always say that and you always leave anyway,” he said with so much hurt in his voice her heart squeezed.

“How could I leave you when you are sick?” Rey said gently.

“You say there are more important things and you have work to do and then you always leave me with Threepio and the nannies.” Suddenly all she could think was a little lonely boy whose mother always had better things to do than to be with him. Rey didn’t knew Leia Organa but now she could see why her son always declined her calls saying that he was “too busy”. Where he got his workaholic tendencies from. Deep down inside big bad Kylo Ren was hiding little Benny who was hurt. Badly. Who apparently was still hurting. She knew this pain precisely. _Her parents left her too._

“Oh, honey,” Rey whispered. Kylo looked at her with pleading eyes.

“Please, stay this one time. Please. I’ve been so good, I eat all my vegetables and I have only good grades. I’ll even tidy my room. Please, mom.” She didn’t realize she was crying until her tears dropped on Kylo’s forehead.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Rey whispered petting his hair gently. “Of course.”

“Rey?” The voice sounded foreign to her ears. She just wanted to snuggle back and sleep some more. Someone shook her.

“Mmm?”

“Miss Johns?” That caught her attention. Rey’s eyes snapped open only to see that she was rather insistently cuddling her own boss. With a yelp she jumped from the couch.

“Oh. Oh God. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. It’s an accident, I promise, you just…” she gushed nervously. Kylo lifted both of his hands in placating gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. What’s happened?” Rey blushed in mortification.

“Phasma sent me with your papers. The Crait deal,” she clarified. “You asked me to stay, then I made you take Nyquil because you were feverish and then we both fell asleep, I guess.” She conveniently forgot the part where he mistook her for his own mother. “Don’t you remember?” Kylo shook his head.

“Not really. But thank you anyway.”

“How are you feeling?” Rey asked tentatively.

“Much better. A bit of sore throat, but I’m fine.” He looked like that too. She gave him a strained smile.

“Great. I think I should get out of your hair. What time is it?” Kylo reached for his phone.

“Half past eight.” Rey’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, no. Oh, God, I’m late to work and I’m not even in my apartment. I can’t do a walk of shame…” Kylo chuckled.

“Rey, calm down, it’s Saturday.” She flushed further, utterly mortified.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Don’t worry about that,” he grinned. “You are welcome to use my bathroom, by the way.”

“Thanks. Sorry for that.” Rey waved around trying to include everything that transpired since Friday into ‘that’. Kylo shook his head.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s me who should thank you for all you did.”

“Please, don’t…”

“Seriously, Rey, what I can do for you? Ask me anything.” He looked at her so earnestly that she was at a loss. _Please, don’t shut me out? Please, be less of a hard-ass? Please, forgive your mom? Please, let me pet your hair and tell you that everything will be OK?_

“I, um…. For starters, you could be nicer to Mitaka,” she blurted out. “You keep the poor guy on the verge of nervous breakdown.” Kylo blinked, puzzled.

“Huh?”

“Did you know that he has next to no sleep because his baby is toothing?” He frowned.

“Not really.”

“Just try to be nice for him. To people in general,” Rey amended. “You fright the pants off of them.” For some reason Kylo smirked.

“Not of you, apparently.” Rey squirmed.

“Well, yeah. That was borderline inappropriate, right?”

“Oh, yes, it’s a very bold move, Miss Johns, to chastise your scary not-so-nice boss like that.” She flushed again. “What shall I do with you?” he mused. Rey’s stomach murmured loudly.

“You might offer me breakfast,” she supplied. Kylo chuckled.

“You are right. I’ll order something. The bath is on the left, by the way, fresh towels are in the closet.”

“Oh, um, great!” she nodded and followed the directions before she did something to embarrass herself further. An hour later Rey, clean, fresh and fed, was waving Kylo good-bye.

“See you next Monday?” he asked hopefully. She smiled.

“See you.”

It wasn’t on purpose. Rey was determined to come to work on Monday. But in the evening her throat became sore, on Sunday she woke up feeling like death and the only thing she could muster herself to do on Monday was to call Gwen to say she was sick. Phasma had several chosen words on how Ren owed her a solid now. It didn’t matter. Rey was hot and cold at the same time, feverish, with running nose, watery eyes and looks of Rudolph the Reindeer. Her head pounded, her bones ached and the only thing she wanted was to bury herself into her bed and to forget she existed.

Alas, the pounding only became louder. Apparently, either her cold, or her medicine created auditory hallucinations because it sounded like someone was knocking on her door. But who could it be? She had no one in Coruscant to check on her. Rey reluctantly left her pillow fort dragging herself to the door. It took her at least five minutes to figure out how to turn the lock and another five with the doorknob. She finally opened the accursed thing only to be assaulted with a visual hallucination as well. On the doorstep of her shitty apartment was standing Kylo or, more precisely, the creation of her feverish brain that looked exactly like her boss from the first stitch of his perfectly tailored suit to the last silken raven lock to his insufferable smirk. She stared dumbly at the hallucination. Why would her brain come up with such a weird image? The vision, clearly tired from simply looking at her, lifted his hand with a familiarly looking container and smiled.

“Soup?”


End file.
